Before and After
by Dr. Nat
Summary: Peter realises just how much his life has improved since the events in Guardians of the Galaxy
1. Chapter 1

**BEFORE AND AFTER**

 **Disclaimer:** These characters are not mine. I got bored and decided to play with them.

* * *

CHAPTER ONE

 _Some months before the events in Guardians of the Galaxy_

Peter hated being alone. He especially hated being alone _and_ wounded. But that was what he got for flying to a remote outpost for Yondu to help close a deal. The deal had ended up being a double-cross, which wasn't that much of a surprise considering Yondu and the people he associated with. Unfortunately, during his very narrow escape, Quill had been shot. The good news (if there could be any good news when you were shot) was that the wound cut cleanly through the muscle of his left shoulder and there was no damage to the joint or bone. The bad news was it hurt like hell, blood was running down his chest and back, he was a three day flight from anywhere, and he was alone. And had he mentioned it hurt like hell?

After setting the _Milano_ on autopilot, Peter staggered towards the bathroom, picking up his med kit and leaving a trail of blood along the way.

Taking off his shirt awakened an even angrier inferno of agony in Quill's shoulder. He paused to catch his breath before trying to clean the entry and exit wounds, which wasn't easy one-handed. Bandaging them proved to be even harder. Somehow with one hand, his teeth, and some luck, Peter managed to knot a bandage that mostly covered both wounds.

Of all the times to be alone.

Quill rarely lacked for female companions and he wished one was on board the _Milano_ now. While a few had inflicted wounds and pain, most were quick to provide sympathy and gentle care. But there was no use dwelling on what he didn't have.

With a groan, Peter took an unsteady step. When his knees almost buckled, he caught himself on the edge of the sink, a movement that sent a fresh jolt of pain into his wounded shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he managed to stand straight. Quill blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to clear the fog and dark spots from his vision. He just needed to get to his bed and rest.

Peter took a shaky step straight into darkness. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

* * *

Pain prodded Quill awake. His shoulder was on fire and he wished the merciful darkness of oblivion would take him back. When it didn't, he forced his eyes open. He blinked a few times in confusion. It took a moment to sort out where he was.

Peter was laying in the doorway of the bathroom, his cheek pressed against the cold metal floor. Strangely, his first thought was that he really needed to clean his ship. From his current position, he could see the floor was grimy. But right now his priority was getting to his bed.

Summoning strength he didn't know he had, Quill pushed himself to his knees, then finally to his feet. Clutching his shoulder against the pain, he stumbled to his bunk and fell into the bed. Peter closed his eyes, but sleep would not come. His shoulder throbbed with every heartbeat and it felt like it was bleeding again. His movements were clumsy, but Quill managed to tighten the bandage in an effort to stop the blood flow. When he was finished, he sank against his pillows with a groan. He could feel the strange combination of heat and chills of a fever.

Quill really didn't want to die. Especially alone in the vastness of space.

* * *

Beep… Beep… Beep…

Quill opened his eyes at the sound of the autopilot alert. A faint expression of relief crossed his face. After three long, pain and fever-filled days alone, he was finally getting somewhere.

Peter swayed slightly on his feet after he forced himself out of his bed. He waited for the dizziness to subside before trying to move again. Knowing it would be impossible to pull on a shirt when the slightest movement of his left shoulder was torture, he didn't bother trying. Quill barely made it a few shaky steps from his bunk before he heard Yondu stomping through the _Milano_. He tried to stand a little taller when the Ravager captain appeared with Kraglin at his side and a few men behind him.

"Where are my things, boy?" Yondu demanded, completely ignoring the bloody bandage tied around Quill's left shoulder.

"I couldn't get them," Peter replied. "In case you didn't notice…"

"What do you mean, you couldn't get them?" Yondu interrupted. "I trusted you with this!"

"It was a double cross. They almost killed me!"

The captain looked thoughtful. "How many were there?"

"Um… Ten… Twelve… Not more than twelve."

"How many you get?"

"Definitely three, maybe four. I think I hurt a few, too."

Yondu actually looked somewhat impressed. "Not bad for being alone. We'll think of a way to get the rest. People gotta know not to cross Ravagers." For the first time, he seemed to notice Quill's wounded shoulder and weary expression. "How bad you hurt, boy?"

"I got shot three days ago. I passed out for a while."

Yondu's expression softened slightly. "Get some rest."

It wasn't much, but it was more sympathy than Peter expected from Yondu.

* * *

 **Author's note:** I do most of my writing during summer fieldwork. I tend to work in remote areas where there's no radio, no television, no phone reception or internet. Usually I have a satphone for emergencies. (Unless I deep six it in a big lake while fishing. Ooops!) Anyway, my typical evening entertainment is writing. Usually I work on my latest novel, but I watched Guardians of the Galaxy right before starting fieldwork this summer and this was the result.

I hope you enjoy it. If you get a chance, please leave a review.


	2. Chapter 2

**BEFORE AND AFTER**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters. Please don't sue me for having a little fun with them.

CHAPTER TWO

 _Some months after the events in Guardians of the Galaxy_

Peter hated being wounded. But that's what he got for agreeing to do "something good" and helping Nova Prime deal with some fanatic Kree terrorists working on developing a powerful weapon.

It had been a good plan. Peter and Rocket had worked on it together for a few days. It really had been a good one. Getting into the Kree compound had gone flawlessly. Finding the weapon prototype had gone perfectly. Stealing the plans to the weapon and destroying what had already been built had been easy. But then, in the midst of a stealthy escape, disaster struck.

Not even Rocket could have foreseen that an insomniac terrorist would stumble from his quarters in the middle of the night straight into them. Or that his single, brief shout would awaken what seemed like every Kree in the compound.

In the midst of the fighting that ensued, a Kree warrior moved to stab Gamora in the back while she battled two others. Having no time to reload his empty weapon, Peter threw himself between them, protecting her with his own body. It had seemed like a good idea until the Kree's blade cut through clothing and skin, scraped across bone, and finally became lodged deep in the muscle between two of his ribs. Quill managed club the Kree warrior over the head with with his empty weapon before collapsing to the rocky ground.

Seconds later, Gamora knelt above Quill, immediately noting the knife and the rapidly spreading red stain on his shirt. She felt a spike of fear, but hid it behind anger. "That was foolish," she noted.

"I never get any thanks," Peter grumbled. Lifting his head slightly, he glanced around at the waning battle. The few Kree who remained standing chose to retreat towards the centre of the compound while Drax bellowed insults about their lack of courage. Quill laid his head back against the hard ground and reached for the hilt of the knife. He wanted to get it out while he was still numb from the initial shock.

Gamora's firm hand stopped him. "Leave it. When it is removed, the bleeding will be worse. It is best to wait until we are on the ship and away from here."

Drax knelt down beside them. "She is correct, my friend. We should make haste to depart. Kree are cowards, but they will regroup and return for us."

"Damn, Quill!" Rocket exclaimed as he leaned over Peter. "How bad is it?"

"Well, it's not good." The numbness had already surrendered to serious pain.

"I am Groot?" The giant plant's voice was laced with concern.

"He'll be fine," Rocket replied.

"Yeah, I will." Peter sat up with a grunt and took his knapsack off his shoulder. He handed it to Groot. "Get these plans to the _Milano_. Rocket, be ready to leave if the Kree come back."

The raccoon hesitated.

"Go!" Peter ordered. "Get the ship ready."

Rocket and Groot ran towards the _Milano_.

"Come, Quill, I will help you."

Peter gritted his teeth and stifled a groan as Drax pulled him to his feet. With one hand pressed tightly against the slash across his ribs, he leaned heavily on the big man as they made their way to the _Milano_. Gamora stayed at Peter's side, casting concerned glances in his direction.

* * *

Quill didn't remember getting on board the _Milano_. One moment he was being half-dragged towards the ship by Drax, the next he was in his bunk with Gamora taking off his clothes. Normally Peter would have welcomed this. Normally he would have thought this was a dream come true. But normally he didn't have a knife jammed in his ribs.

Gamora paused, looking at Quill's naked torso. She couldn't completely hide her approval of his chiseled form or her concern at the wound still leaking too much blood.

Drax appeared at that moment. "I have found what you requested." He held the basic medical kit the Xandarians had given them.

Groot appeared next with some water and bandages. "I am Groot?"

With Rocket piloting the _Milano_ , it was a guess what the tree was saying.

"I'll be fine," Peter replied.

"Set it here, next to his bed," Gamora answered.

Groot smiled reassuringly at Quill and followed Gamora's orders.

Seconds later, Rocket joined the others. "The ship's on autopilot. It's four days to Xandar, two to a mining colony where there should be a doc to patch you up."

Peter took a deep, steadying breath before responding. "I think I want this knife out before then."

The rest of the Guardians looked at the Kree blade buried deep in his flesh, then at each other.

After a long, uncomfortable moment, Gamora finally declared, "I will do it. Drax, is there anything in there to lessen pain?"

He opened the med kit and rummaged through it, finally finding a vial of purple fluid. "There is this. It is very effective."

"No!" Peter vetoed adamantly. "I had it once. I'm allergic. It will make things worse… Much worse."

Rocket looked disturbed. "But, Quill… After that knife comes out, you need to be stitched up. That'll hurt like a sonuvabitch."

"Thanks for the pep talk, Rocket."

"Ah, Quill, I didn't mean…"

Peter lifted a bloody hand to silence the raccoon. "It's all right." His words were beginning to slur. "I'm jus'… getting tired… and cold."

"I am Groot," the tree stated.

Rocket nodded. "Yeah, we need to get it done before he bleeds out."

"Drax, take some bandages and be ready to cover the wound as soon as I get the knife out," Gamora ordered. "Push down firmly to stop the bleeding. Peter, I will pull it out on the count of three. Stay very still."

Quill nodded.

Gamora gripped the black hilt of the knife. "One…" She abruptly yanked the blade out.

Peter gasped with the unexpected explosion of pain. "What the hell… happened to two and three?" he managed to ask.

"Anticipation can make pain worse," she explained.

Whatever Quill's sarcastic response would have been, it was lost in a groan as Drax pressed bandages against the wound. The big man seemed to lean against it with his entire considerable body weight, causing Peter's vision to dim.

* * *

Quill must have blacked out for a few minutes. When his eyes flickered open again, the wound had been thoroughly cleaned and Gamora, Drax, and Rocket were arguing with each other while Groot watched worriedly.

"I told you, I cannot," Drax asserted forcefully. "I lack such delicate skills."

"I am a warrior and an assassin." Gamora's eyes flicked briefly towards Quill's still form. Her voice softened as she confessed, "And I cannot bring myself to do that to him."

"Fine, fine!" Rocket sounded exasperated. "I've fixed just about everything else on this ship, I might as well fix him, too. Give me that med kit. There must be something useful in there." Moments later the raccoon jumped onto Quill's bunk holding a needle and thread.

"I am Groot!"

"Of course I'll be careful!" Rocket noticed Peter was once again conscious. "Shoulda stayed asleep, Quill. This isn't gonna be pleasant. Groot, hold him still. I can't stitch a moving target."

The giant plant extended long vines that held Peter immobile. As Rocket leaned over him ready to sink the needle into his skin, he began to believe that maybe Gamora was right. Just thinking about how much this was going to hurt sucked. But when the raccoon pushed together the wound with one hand and began sewing with the other… that was even worse. Quill tried to writhe away from the pain.

"I am Groot," the tree said soothingly as he held him still.

Quill couldn't reply. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. Sweat broke out on his forehead and ran down his face. After what seemed like an eternity, the stitching ended. He felt Groot's bark-covered arms prop him up as someone wrapped a bandage around his ribs and knotted it snugly. Someone else wiped the sweat from his face with a soft cloth. When he was finally lowered gently back against his pillow, he groaned softly with relief. Oblivion beckoned, but did not claim him.

Rocket jumped from the bed. "I never want to have to do that again. Give me that damn med kit. The Xandarians were nice enough to give it to us, but the idiots forgot none of us are Xandarian. We need different stuff. I'm making a list of things we should have." He stomped away with Groot following.

"You have great fortitude, Quill," Drax stated with admiration. He looked at Gamora. "Is there more I can do for him?"

"I do not think so."

Drax nodded and turned away.

Gamora stayed with Quill. His eyes were closed, but she could still see pain reflected in his expression. Tentatively, she reached out and brushed her fingers through the hair at his temple. When he seemed to relax at the touch, she allowed her fingers to drift to the scruffy beard on his cheek.

Hovering on the edge of unconsciousness, Quill felt gentle fingers touching his face. Gamora. The only person he wanted to see. Pushing aside both pain and exhaustion, he pried his eyes open.

Gamora instantly pulled her hand away as her expression changed from tender to angry. "Why?"

Quill blinked a few times in confusion before asking, "Why what?"

"Why did you so foolishly stand between me and the Kree?"

"You're special to me, Gamora. I don't like seeing you hurt."

"I can endure much," she argued. "I can take care of myself."

Quill sighed. "Just because you can, doesn't mean you need to." He grimaced as he shifted, trying to find a way to ease the pain burning through his ribs.

Gamora's expression softened. "I do not like seeing you hurt, either, Peter."

Flashing a weak smile, he replied, "At least I have you to take care of me."

"I do care for you." Her gentle fingers returned, skimming softly against his bearded cheek.

Despite the pain he felt, Quill smiled at Gamora's profound confession as he drifted into unconsciousness.

* * *

"He is burning," Gamora reported after feeling Quill's forehead.

"I see no flames," Drax stated in confusion.

"She means he has a fever, you idiot," Rocket clarified. "Humies can get them when they have bad wounds."

Quill thrashed around in his bunk in obvious discomfort, groaning and mumbling softly as he grasped at his wound in a feeble effort to lessen the pain.

Noticing the first spots of red beginning to soak through the bandages wrapped around Peter's ribs, Groot stated with alarm, "I am Groot!"

Rocket nodded. "I know, he could tear all the stitches if he keeps this up, not to mention cooking his brain."

"Cooking…"

Rocket interrupted Drax. "Meaning when he gets hot like that it can mess with his mind."

Gamora didn't need to hear more. "Is there anything in that medical kit that will help?"

"Not for a humie with a fever. Xandarians don't get fevers, so they didn't think about that," the raccoon grumbled.

"Drax, bring me a bowl of cool water," Gamora ordered. She sat on the edge of Quill's bunk. "I will do what I can for him."

* * *

Quill couldn't remember being more miserable. A river of molten fire blazed an agonising path along his ribs. He felt like he was roasting in an oven, yet he was also shaking with a chill. Somewhere in his muddled thoughts he knew he had a fever, but that didn't make him feel any better. When he tried to press a hand against the burning pain in his side, a firm grip stopped him.

"No, Peter. Be still."

A cool, damp cloth touched his forehead and face. He sighed at the soothing feeling on his hot skin. "Gamora," he rasped as he forced his eyes open.

She flashed a fleeting smile, although worry lingered in her expression. "Are you thirsty?"

Quill nodded.

Helping him sit up slightly, she held a cup of water to his lips. Peter drank greedily.

"The wound is infected. You have a fever," Gamora informed.

"I know," he replied when he was finished drinking. "Feel like shit."

After he collapsed back against his pillow, Gamora gently ran the damp cloth over his muscular chest, carefully avoiding the bandages. "I must try to cool the fever. Rocket says delirium will begin if you get too hot."

"He's right… Not pleasant."

Her eyes noted the more prominent scars on his chest. "You have been wounded this badly before?"

Nodding slightly, Quill replied, "Yeah… Sucks… Especially alone."

"You're not alone now. Close your eyes and rest, Peter. I will be here when you awaken."

* * *

"You did very well caring for your friend," the diminutive yellow-skinned doctor they had summoned from a mining colony said as he turned away from Quill towards the rest of the Guardians. "He is a very strong young man and should recover quickly as long as he rests. He needs to take the medicine I left to prevent further infection and help with healing. Remember to change the bandage and don't take out the stitches early, no matter how much he complains they itch."

Drax crossed his arms as he looked at Quill, sitting up in his bed propped against some pillows. "I will ensure he obeys."

At that moment, Peter knew that for the first time in his life he would actually follow a doctor's orders exactly. But he was grateful for all his friends had done. "Thank you, guys. Thanks for being there for me."

"I would be nowhere else, my friend," Drax declared.

"I am Groot," the tree added with a satisfied grin.

Rocket looked slightly uncomfortable. "Nothing you wouldn't do for us, Quill," he dismissed. "Now come on, let's show the doc his way out," he said as he walked towards the main hatch of the _Milano_.

"I am Groot."

"Of course I'm going to pay him. I have Quill's account number."

* * *

Once again alone together, Gamora sat on the edge of Quill's bed. He looked exhausted. The fever was gone, but his eyes and countenance clearly conveyed the pain he still felt. She gently touched the clean bandages covering his wound. "Does it hurt badly?"

For a fleeting moment he was tempted to put on his usual face of bravado and lie, but instead he admitted, "The doc gave me something to take the edge off but, yeah… still hurts."

"I never said thank you, Peter." She twined her fingers with his. "It has been a very long time since someone cared about me."

"Get used to it, Gamora, because I do a lot more than just care about you." His green eyes reflected deep emotions that both frightened and excited her.

After a moment of hesitation, she leaned down and kissed him, expressing feelings she had never spoken of, feelings she had thought she would never experience. Peter happily returned the kiss, slowly deepening it until his side stabbed him with pain he couldn't ignore. When they finally broke apart, Gamora looked as though she had discovered something amazing.

Quill smiled. Being wounded still sucked, but at least he had finally gotten a kiss. And judging by Gamora's expression, it would be the first of many.

FIN

* * *

 **Author's Note:** What can I say, I'm a hopeless romantic. I hope you enjoyed this little tale. If you have a chance, please leave a review. Also, I am not a native speaker of English, so please excuse any stupid mistakes I have made with the language.


End file.
